keep the streets empty for me

Memory comes when memory's old

I am never the first to know

Following the stream up North

Where do people like us float

There is room in my lap

For bruises, asses, handclaps

I will never disappear

Forever, I'll be here

Whispering

Morning, keep the streets empty for me

I’m laying down and eating snow

My fur is hot, my tongue is cold

On a bed of spider web

I think of how to change myself

A lot of hope in a one man tent

There's no room for innocence

Take me home before the storm

Velvet moths will keep us warm

Whispering

Morning, keep the streets empty for me

Uncover our heads and reveal our souls

We were hungry before we were born

Fever Ray

Its been on my mind for ages to get on with this but found it quite difficult. But kept on thinking about magic, spirit voices and a European type mythology. I can't wait to see how folk will add to this, loosen it up and play around. I'll be posting this to you Lynne.

Here's the frontispiece of my Moleskine and traces I've left.

And it's going to Marina now)

Work in progress.

I used a screenprinting squeegee and any free ink that I could find at the printmaking studio. I'm going to try screenprinting my entry into this book. I know it will get goofed up. I'm very clumsy with screenprinting. That will be part of its charm. Right?

Filled the entire book with background color. I know that's no trouble for this gang. I hope that it inspires.